


Anything You Need

by cappucinohanzo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen, Healing, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cappucinohanzo/pseuds/cappucinohanzo
Summary: After a battle, the team recovers injured Genji - with his brother.





	Anything You Need

* * *

 

He sits collapsed there, with the sounds of crickets in his ears. The night wind caresses the hair flowing down one side of his head, the other side still somewhat held together by the torn cloth that used to bind it up. He’s shaking, with one hand resting over the shape of his brother who seems to be asleep over his lap but isn’t really, but he isn’t looking at Genji, only at the blurry sky with its dark night-time clouds that eat the stars and then reveal them again if he waits patiently enough. The night after the fight smells of metal so heavily that every inhale makes his throat close up, but he doesn’t have it in him to move, the exhaustion too hard to bear. Even when he hears the footsteps approaching, he barely looks towards the gateway, barely recognises the shapes moving around them or the voices that fill up his ears.

“Who’s he?” someone asks in English.

A woman steps forwards, becoming clearer through the mist. Her expression is suspicious, if not downright hostile, but she doesn’t hesitate when she crouches down in front of them, pressing her hands over the glowing light in the middle of Genji’s chest. Hanzo watches her hand, which seems to leave a trail of light behind it as it moves, a trick played by his fading sight. She looks at him, squints, and answers.

“Genji’s brother,” she says.  
Then, in surprisingly well-pronounced Japanese, she asks him in turn; “Are you an ally?”

Hanzo watches her for some time, not for a reason that he can clearly focus on. Her eyes are strikingly blue. She doesn’t speak Japanese, not really; this is a phrase she’s learned from a book, perhaps, or over a preparation course of some sort. Finally, he nods.

“Now, I am.”

It seems to be enough for her. She turns again, orders the others around, and they move quickly. Genji vanishes. The night vanishes. Hanzo’s not quite sure where he’s taken, or how long it takes to get there. He remembers the flight only barely, the sound of engines burning through the skies, and flickering in and out of consciousness to a bright white interior. He seeks out his brother every time, but he’s not sure what he sees. There are so many tubes, so many machines, and some parts of him - they seem to come off sometimes, only to have been replaced when he next looks over. It doesn’t make sense. He sleeps again.

When he finally regains consciousness, strong enough to stick to it for a longer period of time, the blonde woman with lightnings trapped in her eyes is sitting beside him, anxiously tapping her foot against the floor as she stares, idly and unseeing, at the readings on the screen above Hanzo’s head. Something changes in them, something that alarms her, however, and her gaze suddenly jumps to Hanzo; she stands up, moves closer to his face, and leans down to talk to him.

“I need your permission,” she says in breathless, quick words.

Hanzo squints at her; his head aches. The lights are dimmed and he’s thankful for that, but even the glow of them in the background seems to make everything so much worse for him.

“My permission?” he repeats, if only to signal that he understands.

“Genji needs blood. We don’t - we are not here with permission. Access to official transfusions - I can’t do it, not fast enough. Your brother’s body… there are so many things that can go wrong. Your blood, his blood, you are so close to each other; it is the safest option we have.”

Hanzo closes his eyes. There’s bile in his throat, quickly climbing up as the pounding in his head increases. He nods.  
“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Of course. You have - my permission.”

“It will make you feel infinitely worse,” she warns him, but he throws his head to the side in a weak attempt at casting aside the concern.

“I do not care.”

“Very well. Thank you.”

He nods.  
“You can make him better?” he asks, closing his eyes.

“With your help, I can.”

“Then whatever you need,” he continues, his words slurring slightly as the blackness approaches again, “you can have.”


End file.
